After a June rainstorm, a magical flower blooms. It is exuberantly layered, an extravagant purple wedding cake on a vine by the side of the road. Petaled, fringed, striped, spotted—hypnotic. Bees feel as I do, transfixed, drawn to this short-lived blossom. This is maypop or purple passionflower, Passiflora incarnata, native to the Southeastern United States, though it looks like the kaleidoscopic creation of an otherworldly jungle.
Miron, Layli Maria. “Public Pedagogy and Multimodal Learning on the US-Mexico Border.” Writing on the Wall: Writing Education and Resistance to Isolationism, edited by David S. Martins, Brooke R. Schreiber, and Xiaoye You. Utah State University Press, 2023, pp. 129-150.
My contribution appears as Chapter 8 in this edited collection, which considers how writing educators can challenge isolationism and xenophobia. You can read the introduction to my chapter below. The essay is drawn from Chapter 4 of my dissertation.
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For a while, the tadpoles made themselves invisible. But gradually, as winter turned to spring, they began showing themselves. Tiny legs grew, then lengthened.
By late spring, they’d metamorphosed into frogs. Now, breathing air and warming their cold-blooded bodies in the sun, the frogs perched atop stones, allowing me to count them: four tadpoles had survived to froghood.
Continue readingWater and stones alone do not make a healthy pond. It needs plants, which provide habitat for animals and filter nutrients out of the water, keeping it clearer and resistant to algal blooms. Plus, when you fill a pond with plants, you can call it a “water garden,” conjuring images of fragrant blossoms nodding at their reflections in limpid pools. Ideally, a pond will have both plants that live fully in the water—submerged plants rooted to the bottom as well as floating ones—and marginal (or “emergent”) plants that live on the banks in perpetually damp soil.
I’d announced to the backyard my intention to make a pond there, but no frogs had volunteered to serve as architects. So, it was up to Sergey and me to design and build it. A lot of online reading about wildlife ponds, frog ponds, toad ponds, amphibian ponds, etc. ensued.
After what felt like years’ worth of moonlighting as a pond researcher, I finally convinced Sergey that our creation wouldn’t become a cesspool populated by breeding mosquitos and venomous snakes. Or, more accurately, his naturally kind-hearted desire to support my hopes and dreams outweighed his many qualms. It was now time to start procurement.
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It might seem overzealous for me to worry about our own yard providing habitat given that dozens of species, or probably hundreds or thousands if we’re counting microbial life, already use it, and that at least a hundred native trees—oaks, sweetgums, tulip poplars, dogwoods, loblolly pines, etc.—call it home. But even this habitat could be better.
Continue readingWe have witnessed a slew of wildlife in the yard, a reminder that “our property” belongs to many beings besides humans.
Mammals: Gray squirrels and chipmunks make their homes in the yard. Nocturnal visitors include white-tailed deer, raccoons, and opossums—and most likely armadillos. I once saw a red fox run through the yard.
The does here give birth in September, so each fall, we have the pleasure of seeing big-eyed, gangly-legged fawns exploring the yard, which compensates for my annoyance at the deer for sampling nearly everything I plant!
In every place I live, I find my strongest sense of connection comes from observing the environment.
In Wisconsin, I had nearly all my growing-up years to do so, starting from childhood nature walks with my parents. When we moved into a house that bordered a small-but-vibrant restored prairie, I had plentiful opportunities to watch the birds and insects that benefited from the native wildflowers and grasses. I recall walking to a small pond next to that prairie to watch hundreds of dragonflies swooping predatorily over cattails.
On ‘Abdu’l-Bahá’s extraordinary journey across North America in 1912, He visited Philadelphia from June 8 to 10. While there, He spoke at a hotel and two churches, as well as at a private Bahá’í residence, a house rented by Mary Jane Revell where she and her four daughters lived. ‘Abdu’l-Bahá visited every room in the modest rowhouse and, sitting on a rocking chair, addressed the fifty Bahá’ís crowded inside. He praised them as brilliant “pearls,” exhorting them to serve Bahá’u’lláh.
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Continue readingThe winds of the true springtide are passing over you; adorn yourselves with blossoms like trees in the scented garden.
Spring clouds are streaming; then turn you fresh and verdant like the sweet eternal fields.
The dawn star is shining, set your feet on the true path.
The sea of might is swelling, hasten to the shores of high resolve and fortune.
The pure water of life is welling up, why wear away your days in a desert of thirst?1
—Abdu’l-Baha
Layli Maria Miron 